A Pebble Falls to the Earth
by Fruitiest of Mallards
Summary: In a timeline where Vash killed Knives instead of sparing him, the Stampede moves on with his life with Meryl. Meanwhile, an Earth fleet arrives on Gunsmoke, carrying two independent plants by name of Chronica and Domina.
1. Chapter 1

Meryl Stryfe worked very hard to secure a job in Bernardelli Insurance. She had since she was a child. Not Bernardelli specifically, but she'd always wanted a good education and a well-paid future. Her parents went through hell and back to get her through the proper schooling. When she graduated college, she received numerous offers from property insurance companies seeking her employment, as that was what she'd studied so meticulously for.

She was lucky enough to be contacted by Bernardelli, _the_ biggest name and of course her choice was a no-brainer. She was talented in her field and Millicent Thompson was no one to sniff at, either; she may have been born a farm girl but she went through the same strenuous learning process Meryl did, which the shorter woman respected the taller for.

Bernardelli was mainly located in April City, one of the Seven Cities, based around a fallen SEEDS ship and far-flung in general atmosphere from the relatively moderate-sized city Meryl grew up in, called Puckett. Meryl's goodbyes to her parents and what few relatives they had were tearful but it wasn't like they wouldn't keep in contact, much less never see each other again. The tears were more of joy than anything else.

Meryl knew Millie wrote letters to her family regularly and was a little guilty whenever she thought of it—she sent reports to her superiors, but not the status of her wellbeing to her mother and father? She sighed, staring at the blank typewriter before her. She really should. Resolving to get it done sometime that night (almost a year now since she'd sent them anything, wasn't it?) she stood up.

It was morning and Millie was doing their laundry. She really didn't have to, but she insisted. Meryl was wiser than to argue. Ever since Wolfwood's death Millie had been quieter, but she was still, without a doubt, Millie Thompson. Meryl's mood saddened, not for the first time. Millie had only just begun experiencing her first real love and then he was gone, just like that. Meryl didn't know what she would have done if Vash ever died. God knew he almost had more times than she could count.

She and Millie had waited in that town square until nightfall, long after the well's fountain of water had stopped. They fell asleep on a bench, leaning against one another. Meryl remembered it distinctly: waking up due to the sensation of a gentle hand on her shoulder, looking up into haunted green eyes. Vash had done _something_, something which changed him inside, but she hadn't dared ask him what it was. It was his business to tell her when he was ready. All that mattered was that he was alive and…well.

They were staying in the same house where Meryl had listened to Vash scream in confusion and despair after making his first kill. The day after his return he'd been unexpectedly chatty, as if trying to drown out his own thoughts with his mouth. Somehow it led to an emotional exchange.

"Meryl, _I am not human_—"

"_I don't care, damn it!_"

That was the end of that conversation. He'd been prepared to tell her much more, she saw it in his eyes, but he was so stricken by her outburst he didn't say anything else on the subject. Part of her regretted that, another part of her never would. Yes, it had been very sudden, she'd reeled for a total of two seconds as the words left his mouth and then it all clicked. Was he afraid of not having children? That their genes were incompatible?

"Meryl," Vash's concerned voice drifted from the doorway of the bathroom, she looked at him. He was drying his blond hair, it looked ruffled and he was shirtless, all of his scars and metallic implants exposed, "Are you okay?" It had been a week since he'd run to face down his brother. It was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, while at the same time she often caught him staring into space. Whatever happened, it affected him greatly. Nothing between she and him had been spoken aloud, not yet, but Meryl finally knew where her heart lay and was stubborn to not let it fade into regret.

"I'm fine," she answered, "Just overthinking, I suppose."

"On what?"

She swallowed, "You. Us."

His hands quit moving the towel across his scalp. There was a deep pause. A tinge of paranoia painted Meryl's mind. He inhaled through his nose, "I have been, too."

_How?_ Meryl wanted to ask, _When you've been so consumed by whatever-it-was?_

She was nothing if not a person who persevered, "And?"

"This is hard, Meryl," Vash said, "I tried telling you…"

There it was, then, "I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry. I don't care what you are. You're Vash to me."

His smile was watery, "Thanks. That—that means a lot to me. It's just—it's exactly what I am that would come between us," her expression of bafflement made him wince, "I'm over a hundred years old, I told you that. I'm going to outlive you."

"_What?_" It dawned on her.

Every crease in his features was pained, "You'll grow old. I won't."

She had never thought of that.

"I am an independent plant," she remembered this revelation with immense clarity, "Not human. Different lifespans. I…" his throat grew choked, "I don't want to watch you die without me."

She didn't know what to say.

His face crumpled, "I love you, Meryl—but I don't want to suffer that."

"Then make the best of the time you do have together."

They both jumped at Millie, who spoke from just outside the open door of the room. She was watching Meryl and Vash intently.

"Love outlasts time," she added.

The second day after his return Vash explained to Millie a shorter version of his past than he'd informed Meryl. Millie had been just as—if not more—accepting as Meryl expected her to be.

Vash squeezed the bathroom countertop so hard his knuckles went white, "Didn't you hear me? I don't…!" His head bowed and his forehead rested against the counter, teeth grit. He stayed that way for a very long time. Then, he shut the door. Shakily, not with a slam.

Meryl slowly turned back to her typewriter. She began, _Dear Mom and Dad, I've fallen in love with a man._


	2. Chapter 2

_Rem, forgive me, but I have to make my own decisions now,_ he'd thought, blood pouring out of his brother's skull and onto the ground, _This is my first._ He'd fallen to his knees, bawled his eyes out, but there was nothing to be done. This was his fate; to be alone, the only one of his kind. It must have been hours before he suddenly found himself coming back to the town, back to the insurance girls—back to Meryl. No matter how he delved into his feelings he couldn't find any remorse for what he'd done. Knives was dead. He would never hurt anyone again.

Now, lying in a bed with Meryl between his arms sound asleep, he thought of the looks he'd gotten from the village's people when he'd dared to venture outside. They were untrusting. They had every right to be. Even after the joy the raining water from the well had brought (Millie told him about that, wistfully), they made no secret what they thought of him. He tried not to hold Meryl too tight, but his arms ached to bring her closer to his chest. There were pieces of metal in his chest, though, and it might be uncomfortable for her. He didn't want to wake her up. Not when she looked so peaceful.

If someone told him long ago that he'd fall in love with Meryl Stryfe he'd have grinned stupidly like usual and said, "Sure, buddy!" and then forget all about it, because, really, he liked the spunk in her but that was madness—she'd never love him in return. Apparently, he'd been very wrong. The way she spoke, she made it sound like she'd had feelings for him for a very long time. He was still thrown by that. He didn't think he'd ever stop being baffled. Who could love him? But, then, she always surprised him…

They were due to leave as soon as all three of them were awake and bushy-tailed on the morrow. Where they would go, they didn't know. It didn't matter, not right then. It was late at night, midnight, probably, Vash didn't need to sleep as much as a human did, but he found his eyelids drifting shut anyhow. The day had been long and tiring. He'd agonized for a couple hours alone in the bathroom before Millie's words truly sunk in. Rem would have wanted him to be happy whenever he could be, for however long that would be. He didn't follow her words as religiously as he had in the past, but he still respected her memory.

He came out and found Millie gone, Meryl typing something with quick fingers, which had ceased at the sound of his footsteps. She didn't move as he sniffled and apologized. She pushed back the chair she'd sat in, got to her feet, turned around and kissed him. He didn't deny her. One thing led to another and here they were. Neither of them had seen Millie since her surprise contribution to their conversation. He thanked her for that—he was unstable just being with Meryl, he didn't want to mess with trying to talk to Millie. He just needed to rest, that was all.

Sunrise arrived hours later, Vash sensed the light through the window seemingly at once. Meryl was still conked out. He smiled fondly. This was the beginning of something new. He'd never truly been _in love_ with anyone in his life. Never had the time for it. Had too much time, really. The reality of the fact he'd live far longer than Meryl hit him again and suddenly the sunlight didn't seem as bright. He forced it to the back of his brain. Father Time hated Vash, evidently, but Vash wouldn't let him win. He would make the best of all this, even if it killed him. With his luck, it just might.

* * *

Meryl's luggage made scraping sounds against the dirt as the village became a dot in the distance. The star above their heads shone hotly down upon them. She'd gone to the local post office and fortunately managed to afford getting her letter to her parents sent. She wondered what they'd think of it. It was a strange message. _Dear Mom and Dad, _and one line, _I've fallen in love with a man._ That would send her mother into a tizzy. Her father would do a spit-take. She was an only child but she had a cousin she'd seen often who was a talented gossiper and would most likely faint at the news. She huffed once through her nose.

"Would you like to go anywhere in particular, Vash?" Millie asked the blond.

He shrugged, "Wherever you'd like to go." Meryl noted the absence of the phrase _you girls_, wondering when he'd decided to drop his buffoonish persona. It must have been when he'd killed—she shouldn't make assumptions. He would tell her what had occurred between him and his brother when he was ready to. It was true that his idiot act had annoyed her at times, but she understood sometimes people needed to be someone else for a little while. Besides, sometimes it was genuine, she smirked. She walked closer to him than she would have before the relationship between them was established, bumping into him occasionally.

She glanced at him and was startled to find he was staring straight at her. They shared a look and she was the first to break it. His gaze was intense. He was grinning when she glimpsed his face next. She thought she'd never seen him so…light. It was because of her, she realized with a jolt. He was happy because they were together. She blushed, like a young girl, despite being thirty-five. Once more she thought of her parents' reactions. This was happening. They hadn't discussed anything but Vash behaved as if he planned to be with her for the rest of her life. She didn't mind that thought. Not at all. If that was going to the case and she hoped it was, that meant he'd have to meet her relatives. She pondered if he'd even considered that yet at all.

"Would it still be considered work if…" Meryl started, "…we visited our hometowns?"

Millie blinked at her, "I don't see why not, ma'am, as long as Vash is with us," she looked at him pointedly.

"Hometowns?" He echoed, "As in, like…_your_ hometowns?"

"Sure," Meryl confirmed, "Why not?"

"Huh," he said contemplatively, rubbing his chin, eyes flicking to Meryl who had a growing smile, "Sounds good to me!"

"One thing, though," Millie interrupted, "Which way _are_ our hometowns?"

"I have a map," Meryl supplied.

"Oh, right."

Meryl yanked said piece of paper out of her belongings, "Yours or mine first, Millie?"

"Oh, I'd…love to see my siblings again. All of them."

"It's settled, then."

Vash eyed Millie, "Don't you have a bunch of brothers and sisters?"

She nodded, pleased, "Indeed I do!"

"Are they all as big as you?"

"Some of them—though no one's as tall as you are, I'm afraid!"

Meryl listened to her best friend and her lover banter. One would think nothing had changed, but everything was different. She could get used to this.


	3. Chapter 3

Homedale. What a fitting name for such a small, friendly village. Meryl could see where Millie got her character from. It was a little on the isolated side of nowhere, but that hadn't stopped things from happening on the way there. They'd gone through a number of places to reach Homedale, each one bringing its own mini-event—Vash tripping a runaway purse snatcher, Vash halting temporarily to help a poor family rebuild their house which had been broken down by a sandstorm, Vash…it always seemed to revolve around Vash. Well, Meryl wasn't about to stand back and do nothing. She'd stepped up and helped to lift a particularly heavy piece of wood with Vash.

He'd beamed at her.

The journey was at its end. Millie grew visibly more excited the closer to her grandfather's farm they became. Meryl hadn't seen her this joyful since the last time Wolfwood made her laugh. It was night out and chilly, in stark contrast to the warm day, nobody was out and about at this time of evening. The doors and windows were shut and the whole place was dead silent. Not the sort of quiet which was unnerving, just...uneventful. Like out-of-the-ordinary things didn't happen here much. She thought of Vash. With him here, that was likely to change.

"I remember this place like the back of my hand," Millie burst with enthusiasm, "It should be this way…"

The farmhouse was on the outskirts of the town, of course, so there was room to grow their crops. Meryl and Vash waited side-by-side at the bottom step of the front porch staircase while Millie bounded up and knocked vigorously on the door. She'd already sent a long letter to her family telling them she was dropping by to visit. It had been Meryl's plan to construct a false identity for Vash so as not to scare the Thompsons by having_Vash the Stampede_ show up on their doorstep—but Millie being Millie, she was honest and left no detail spared.

_We'll be bringing our charge with us!_

"Millie, won't that scare them?" Meryl asked her, hyper-aware of Vash sitting beside her in a diner listening to the both of them.

"Of course not," Millie answered, "I've told them all about Vash and how he's a good man."

Vash said, "I hope they believe you."

"They're no dummies, I'm sure they do…" none of them commented on how she seemed to trail off.

At present, Vash turned to Meryl, "You know…we can hold hands if you want."

She was caught off guard, but nonetheless liked the feeling of his hand wrapping around hers, fingers entangling. The front door of the farmhouse finally opened. From where they were they couldn't exactly hear what was being said, but it surely looked like a familial reunion to Meryl.

* * *

"_Millicent_," gasped Jewel, Millie's mother, "Is that really you?"

"In the flesh!" Millie desired nothing more than to hug her mother fiercely, but she kept her distance; there were things that needed to be settled first, "How have you been?"

Her mother didn't see it the same way, she immediately squeezed her daughter in her arms, "We have been fine—but what about _you?_" Millie couldn't help but return the hug.

"Doing my job," she said, "This visit won't affect it."

"Yes, but, I mean—where is he, then?"

"You mean Mr. Vash? Why, he's down there!" Millie gestured in Meryl and Vash's general direction behind her, "I swear, he's no harm to anybody."

"I—well—I know that, we all do, we've read your letters," Jewel peered over Millie's shoulder (she was a great deal shorter than Millie) and her eyes widened at the bright red coat which stood out in the darkness, "Pardon me if sometimes I found your misadventures hard to believe."

"Every bit of it was true, Ma," Millie insisted.

"If you say so…" Jewel's demeanor changed completely, "What are you waiting for, invite your—friends—in, the rest of us are dying to see you!"

Millie was beyond ecstatic. She called to Meryl and Vash, "C'mon up, you two!"

* * *

That was fast, thought Vash, who'd been listening in—his hearing was sharper than a human's, "Ladies first," he waved Meryl forward. She hmm'd.

"It's a great pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Thompson," Meryl said courteously.

"Same here," Vash dared.

Mrs. Thompson stared up at the sheer height that was Vash the Stampede, "Please, call me Jewel," her eyes, a pale blue like Millie's, were slightly wide, "I have to say I never thought something like this would happen."

"You've got nothing to fear from me, miss."

"'Miss'! No one's called me that in years!"

Vash had to bite down the words, _What can I say, I'm a lady charmer,_ forgetting for a second he was a taken man. Old habits die hard. He wouldn't trade Meryl for the world. In place of what he'd just barely kept from saying, he substituted, "You don't look that old," which was kind of lame.

Jewel merely seemed flattered by it. She stood off to the side of the doorway to allow them entrance, "Don't be strangers."

Millie went in first, this was her life-long home, after all. Meryl followed her, with Vash in tow.

There was a great commotion from one doorway in particular, "Is that Millie?"

"Is that _Vash?_"

"I'm more concerned if it's Millie…"

Multiple voices were heard and Millie's face was threatening to split from the size of her toothy grin, "It sure is me!" It hit Vash again that Millie was the youngest of eleven children. She was surrounded by a hoard of people whom Vash assumed were her siblings, or at least some of them, he wasn't able to make a headcount.

"How have you been?"

"This month's Millie Monthly was shorter than usual, I was worried for you."

Millie shook her head, "I've been fine, there's no need for worry, now give me a great big ol' hug!" They all looked alike in the face, Vash was astounded. It made him wonder what Millie's father was like. The sight of it all gave him a fuzzy feeling in his gut. He'd always wished to have a huge family like this. Maybe now with Meryl, he could…

Vash and Meryl sat back and listened to Millie talk with her siblings and mother before one of them noticed the ridiculously tall blond man leaning against the wall. Vash, feeling strangely playful, waggled his fingers at the young man—well, he had to be at least thirty—in a wave. The fellow looked like he'd been hit by a freight train.

"Is _that_..."

The astonishment in his voice made all their eyes turn to the source of his shock.

Vash smiled sheepishly, "Yep, it's me, Vash the Stampede."


	4. Chapter 4

"Holy…" breathed Evan under his breath. He'd just been waved at by Gunsmoke's most notorious outlaw. He didn't know what to think. Millie was absolutely convinced he wasn't a bad guy. He knew her and this was fact. The question was, was _he_ convinced? He'd just met Vash. Realizing he might look a little dumb with his jaw hanging open like it was he closed it shut, "Uh, hey," he tried, "Nice to meet'cha…"

Preston, the eldest brother, was the one with the biggest balls apparently, because he stepped forward and _shook_ Vash's hand, "Same here. Millie's said a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope!" The blond man said cheerily. His voice wasn't as deep as Evan would have expected the voice of someone of his caliber to be.

"It's Millie, of course they were," Preston nodded. Evan resisted pulling a face. Preston sometimes spoke as if the people he was speaking of weren't there. It annoyed him sometimes. Millie, if she noticed, did not comment.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," the short dark-haired woman who Evan assumed was Millie's famed business partner, Meryl Stryfe, said something for the first time since he'd seen her. Millie had always been so admiring of Meryl, writing highly of her and calling the older lady her closest companion she'd ever had at times, "May I have all your names?" She put an emphasis on _all_, Evan didn't blame her.

"I'm Preston," Preston introduced, then gestured at Evan, "This is Evan," the list went on, "Albert, Susan, Robert, Erin, Wyatt, Amy, Betsy and Hayden."

"Yep," Erin chimed, Evan was surprised the little chatterbox hadn't interrupted them before now, "And I bet you can't even tell us apart."

"Don't be rude, Erin," Preston chided, as if he was their father. Evan huffed once through his nostrils. Something niggled in the back of his mind and he glanced at Vash again, surprised to find a set of very green eyes looking right at him. He blinked and the eye-contact was gone, Vash was all ears as Preston added, "We've been up all night anticipating you."

"Yeah," Erin said, _again_, if Evan didn't know better he'd call him the youngest, but that was Millie, "Now we can go _sleep_."

Preston's lips pursed but Millie laughed aloud, even Meryl and Vash seemed amused, sharing looks—was it possible for humor to be intimate? Evan was stricken, hadn't Millie alluded to Meryl having a crush on Vash time after time?—but before he could ask (how was he supposed to ask such a personal question anyway?) Hayden rumbled, "You might be tired, Erin, but that's because you're the smallest."

"I'm older than Millie!"

"Yet, she's bigger than ya'll…"

Erin bristled at the slight upon his height, but he just grumbled, "If you're wondering where Pa is, he's asleep. You know how he is. Said you'd 'right well be there when he woke up so why shouldn't he sleep.'"

"Are you all insane?" Susan said shrilly, "There's a—"

Jewel said over her, "Susan, don't start this—"

"—_wanted criminal_ in our house!"

Evan thought he, Meryl and Millie were the only ones who saw it: Vash deflated, as if he'd been expecting this. Evan actually felt bad for him. No one deserved to be subjected to Susan Thompson, who'd always held a certain mistrust of every word Millie spoke. Not that she believed Millie was a bad person, just that she was naïve—and maybe Millie _was_ a bit too innocent for the likes of the world, but that didn't make Susan's hostility towards her warranted.

Betsy edged away from Susan, "Geez, just when I was starting to like you again, sis."

Susan looked at her, aghast, "Not you, too!"

"Look," sighed Jewel, "We have extra rooms which need to be occupied; we have guests over and you _will_ be polite. I'm sorry for this," she addressed Meryl and Vash, swiping a gray-streaked strand of hair behind her ear, "Millie, we've kept your old bedroom intact."

"Thank you, Ma," Millie was uncharacteristically subdued, Evan immediately felt his heart thrum with sympathy.

"You can't be _serious…!_" Susan stomped away out of sight through another doorway.

"I get this a lot," Vash said suddenly, "It's no trouble."

That earned him an awkward pause.

"We don't need two rooms, if that's alright with you," Meryl said to Jewel. This garnered yet another, even heavier pause as the meaning of her words sunk in.

It would seem Evan's hunch proved correct.

"Oh, o-of course," Jewel stuttered, "I'll lead you there."

And Evan was left alone as everyone shuffled off for bed, one way or another. He stayed where he was, soaking in all the new information. He liked to reflect on events after they were over with and came up with several conclusions: Millie was changed, somehow, he didn't know why he thought so but he _did_, dammit. Two, Meryl was dating the Humanoid Typhoon, and three, Susan was a nutcase.

* * *

"Goodnight, you two!" Millie called to the couple as they passed.

"Sleep well, Millie," Meryl bade, Vash grinned wildly at the tall woman to cheer her up. It seemed to work, somewhat, Millie's lips quirked.

Millie certainly had some colorful characters for family, thought Vash the Stampede. Ah, drama. He didn't mind it, honestly, it was a refreshing change from the type of things he usually attracted. Carrying Wolfwood's cross he and Meryl followed Jewel to a spare room.

"I hope this suits you two—oh, dear, the bed's a little too small…"

"It's perfectly fine," Meryl smiled, "Vash always hangs off the beds," she said in good humor. As if she knew exactly how he slept. And she did by now, too. Dear god, his heart was all a-flutter.

Jewel raised one eyebrow, "I see."

* * *

Millie found Susan sitting at the dining table, "Why don't you trust me?"

The absolutely on-point words left Susan dumbstruck. She'd forever assumed that her youngest sibling was an airhead, "I…"

Millie swallowed, eyes pricking with tears, "They are my _friends_. I would never have brought them here otherwise."

"That man is dangerous!"

"It's never his fault," Millie said obstinately, "Never."


	5. Chapter 5

Millie's father's name was Tristan. He was an extraordinarily tall man, able to pretty much meet Vash eye-to-eye. At least Millie thought so; Vash and Meryl, as well as everyone else, were still asleep. She herself hadn't gotten a wink of rest and it was beginning to show in how she continuously had to fight off yawning, her argument with Susan had been taxing on her mind to say the least. Susan was unable to be reasoned with, no matter how hard Millie tried. She sat on the house couch beside her father who she'd already hugged tightly and kissed on the forehead.

"So, the Humanoid Typhoon is snoring away somewhere in my home," Tristan said.

"Yep!" Millie replied brightly, forcing an edge from entering her voice. She knew her daddy. "You'll like him for sure."

"For all our sakes, I hope so," Tristan's tone was only slightly grave, "I can't tell you how many times I reread your letters word for word, just to make certain I wasn't seeing things." Millie, drained, said nothing. Tristan looked at her sharply, "Not to say I disbelieve you, hon. I'm taking care of my family, is all. A measure of caution is always necessary." One of his favorite phrases.

"Thank you, Pa..."

* * *

Vash dreamt about Knives. He didn't mean to. If he had any say in it he'd forget Knives ever existed, but that wouldn't do him much good, would it? He dreamed of the days with Rem, of her idealism and found relief in the illusions of sleep. His dream-self, a child, couldn't stop staring at his brother until dream-Knives turned to him and inquired, "What're you staring at me for?"

Vash, honest, answered: "I"m glad you aren't killing people anymore."

He woke up, then, just as Rem was going to ask him what he was talking about. He didn't know how he knew she was going to. He supposed it was common sense. Knives was still a boy in the dream (but he'd been a boy when he'd killed Rem) and he was innocent (he'd been able to smile so sweetly after doing it, too). His eyelids were unpleasantly heavy. He needed more sleep. He was on his side facing the wall, he glanced over his shoulder at Meryl, flat on her back, mouth partly open and suddenly he wished for a camera, but photography was sparse in the world of Gunsmoke, in the sense that it was expensive.

Rem Savarem. For her, and everyone else, he'd spent so long going about his life as if it was his duty to be the savior of humanity, despite not being a human himself. Well, if there was one thing he'd realized in the last month, it was that that was _not his job._ It was that epiphany—and only that—which kept him from continuing on with wandering, alone, two insurance agents on his heels. He knew they sensed something was different in the order of things when he waited for them instead of powering on ahead like he had before, when they'd left that town that had made such a mark on their lives. No more jumping into the middle of things that could get him killed. He was going to settle down with the woman he loved. Rem would want nothing less.

He wasn't sure Meryl knew that, yet. Sometimes he caught her staring at him like they were a lost cause. It was difficult to describe, he wasn't sure when he'd learned to read her so well but that was all he could come up with when he saw that _look_ in her eye. It helped, he guessed, that he was an empath, and the feeling of vague helplessness radiated from her like light from a flickering lamp. The first time Vash felt her feeling like that he'd been thrown and a little lost. How long had she been pining? The emotions coming from her were old, she was accustomed to them like she'd been experiencing them far before their first—well.

_Settle down._

The words reverberated in Vash's head.

It was time to settle.

He'd been so weightless since it dawned on him he loved her. He was going to show her that.

* * *

Evan stared up at his bedroom ceiling blankly. He'd been falling in and out of sleep all night, and he was fairly sure it was morning by now. The first thought that came across his mind was that his father was probably awake now, wondering what in the heck transpired in his abode while he was asleep. Evan sighed, sitting up in bed propped on his elbows. He thought of Susan's high-pitched voice, of Erin's talkative nature, contemplated the members of his family as a whole. Betsy was an artist, Evan continuously tried teaching her to play chess like he had Millie but the poor girl couldn't seem to wrap her mind around the concept of the game. She was oriented in finding patterns, sure, he had a feeling she wouldn't be able to paint like she did if she couldn't, but strategy? It was lost on her. Preston, for all his Man Of the House tendencies, was a good guy and Evan trusted him with his life.

There was Hayden, his deep voice and mellow demeanor. Robert, the quiet guy, perpetually lost in his thoughts. Albert, or Bert, got along with Erin best, they were both competitive snots. Wyatt...was a bit of a grump. As a kid he'd gotten into more arguments with their father than Evan could count. Amy was a wallflower. A wispy presence, often overshadowed by her siblings, Evan tried his best to pull her out of her shell. Millie was youngest, Amy the second youngest girl. Evan and she were close, though lately she'd been withdrawing into herself more than usual, he couldn't decipher why.

He rolled out from between his bed-sheets and dressed for the day. Everyone would just have to forgive him skipping a shower. He couldn't return to the realm of sleep and he was going to stop trying to. He ventured into the hallway where all their rooms sat side-by-side soundlessly. He was skilled at this, not waking his siblings. He had a history of sneaking out to watch the stars while the rest of the house snoozed. He'd been caught multiple times. That never stopped him. He had no fear of that now, being thirty one years old. Millie, if he wasn't mistaken (it was hard to memorize everyone's birthday's sometimes) was twenty-six, which made her strong friendship with the elder Meryl Stryfe the more impressive to Evan. Looking at the dark-haired lady he got the distinct sense she wasn't to be trifled with.

Doubly so, if she was dating Vash the goddamn Stampede.

Vash. Evan's train of thought drifted in the blond man's direction once more. Things were definitely going to get interesting...


End file.
